Death Eater Redux
by Shaldana Blackwater
Summary: Harry Potter has been under the 'gentle' administrations of Bellatrix for far too long. Snape attempts to rescue, but everything goes south. WARNINGS see notes.


_**Characters: **Bellatrix Lestrange, Harry Potter, Severus Snape, a few others mentioned in passing. No pairings other than what is already established in Canon.  
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_**Rating:** Extreme R for violence, torture and implied cannibalism_

_**Warning:** Character death, random losses of body parts – **not for the faint of heart**. This is very squicky to those with weak stomachs – you have been warned!_

_**Disclaimer:** Yadda yadda yadda._

_** Author's Notes: **I have no idea what on earth brought a story like this on me, but well, here it is. My apologies for uploading an entirely un-beta'd fic, but I'm going away for a bit, so I wanted to get this up. I will replace it when the beta'd version comes back._

_Please see my author page for more notes in regards to upcoming fics and sequels. Review if you like, but don't bother flaming. There's really no point in it. Constructive criticism and normal reviews are more than welcome and appreciated._

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**Death Eater Redux**__

Harry Potter could not remember the last time he had been warm or saw light or ate or had partaken in anything even remotely pleasant. He hurt in places he didn't want to even comprehend and he knew his bruises were covered in bruises. His right eye would be a long time in healing, considering it was distended and resting on his cheek. His glasses were long smashed, which didn't really matter all that much anyway. The only time he saw light was when _she_ came for him. Bellatrix. She had taken to Harry, but not in the way most people think they would like to be taken to. She seemed to believe that he was the most wonderful thing to experiment with, and therefore experimented on him with gusto.

As a result, he had wounds that were so grievous; he knew that he was going to die here. Even if he could get to a wand, it is rather difficult to cast a spell when you only have two fingers remaining on your left hand, and the right hand, well, the less said about what wasn't there the better. Harry didn't want to think on that at the moment.

He had long given up on the hope of rescue. Snape had told him that he did not know where he was being held, as the potions master could only Apparate there through the Dark Mark, and the entire place was warded against any other sort of magical travel, though not for a lack of trying.

Harry tried to curl around himself for warmth. He had a threadbare blanket, but it was encrusted with blood and it kept sticking to his wounds. As much as he craved warmth, he feared the pain even more. Bellatrix loved to put the blanket on him during the rare times the pain allowed him to sleep, and then wake him up by ripping it off. Naked or not, he'd rather be cold.

He heard footsteps coming down the corridor and he groaned inwardly. He just couldn't take another session, even though it had been several days since the last one. He was still in pain and even though Snape would feed him healing potions, replenishing potions, Pepper-Up, and a veritable plethora of other despicable-tasting potions, his body was shutting down and could no longer heal, even with the help.

Harry did not think he would survive this one. Bellatrix had been getting worse at each session and her creativeness for torture knew no bounds. She tortured simply for the pleasure of it. How is a person supposed to bargain with someone who literally got off on the torture of other people? Of course, Harry found it difficult to bargain these days. The slicing off of his tongue had caused several problems for him, the least of which was the inconvenient drooling. Bellatrix had such interesting ways of cauterising her more serious wounds.

He heard the footsteps coming closer, and then he was grabbed roughly under his arms and hauled vertical. It had been a very long time since he had been able to walk, though Bellatrix had got such a kick out of it when he would pitch forward due to the lack of toes.

They proceeded to drag him up a couple of flights of stairs, and for the first time in months, he saw daylight. Tears formed in his remaining eye from the mixture of pain and joy. The brute on his right stopped in front of a heavy oak door and kicked it open with his boot.

"Ah, my little Poppet!" he heard Bellatrix greet him. "Did you like the light? Oh, I truly hope so. It will be the last time you see it." Her sadistic, evil grin looked out of place on her face. Her eyes showed her insanity and Harry wondered, for the umpteenth time, how someone so beautiful could be so sinister – as if beauty had anything to do with anything. A frosty, bitter feeling seeped through him as he realised he was absolutely correct: He was going to die today. Bellatrix had told him that she would never taunt him with death until she was ready to follow through and deliver.

Harry's keepers tossed him on to a high stone table and then rearranged him so that he was laying flat on his back. It was horribly cold and quite uncomfortable, but the day of his capture, Bellatrix had made sure that Harry would never be able to escape. She was horrifically clever on which parts of a spine one could sever while keeping her victim alive and able to feel everything.

Bellatrix pulled out a selection of razors and proceeded to display them on his torso.

"Poor, wee Harrykins. Only a little more pain and it will all be over. You are to be granted with a double honour today! You will be the guest of honour at dinner tonight and you'll be granted your escape in to death. Isn't that wonderful?"

Harry despaired, unable to fight, unwilling to fight, unwilling to live. Even if he survived, there was no way he would be able to function ever again. There was only so much magic could accomplish, after all. Bellatrix seemed delighted in her task. She was in an especially good mood. She picked up a small razor blade and made a deep cut across Harry's shoulder, and then pulled it further open with her fingers. The pain was excruciating and he was already feeling faint. Bella's eyes lit up in glee. It was the beginning of the end.

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Severus Snape was in what Albus Dumbledore referred to as Snape's 'Happy Place' – eyeballs deep in an aged potion book. Neville Longbottom could have blown a cauldron up and Hogwarts's potions Master probably would not have even blinked. Scribblings, diagrams and notes were scattered all about the book in several different languages and styles of handwriting. Snape muttered to himself as he read, sorting through ingredients, translating notes and trying to rework the ingredients to compensate for plants and components that had been extinct when the Dodo disappeared off of the planet.

Unfortunately, there was one thing that could always snap him out of his single minded haze: The call from Voldemort. The Mark burned cold and ruthlessly, and Snape nearly dropped the old tome to the floor.

Cursing the disturbance, he left the book open faced on his desk and grabbed the items he would need before stalking off to the edge of the wards and Apparating to the Dark Lord's call.

­When he arrived, he was surprised to see that the arrival point was on the grounds of Malfoy Manor. He sighed heavily to himself. He would not get any closer to finding the location of Harry Potter this night. Both Malfoy senior and his son had mentioned that Potter was not in their home, nor had he been at any time.

While that was information helpful to eliminating a possible location, it was useless in getting the Order any closer to a rescue attempt. Already, the Order had paid a heavy price in the lives of various members in their search for the Potter boy. The only information they had was that he was still alive.

Snape drew his black robes closer about himself and stalked up to the front door where it opened automatically to allow him entrance. To his surprise, it was not only Lucius Malfoy there to greet him, but also Lucius' cousin-in-law Bellatrix Lestrange. Of all of the frightening things that Snape had seen in his life, he quickly decided that they were nothing compared to the malevolence showing clearly on Lestrange's facial features. A cold finger of feeling crept down the back of his neck and he was immediately on his guard. Something was up but he could not tell what it is.

Steeling himself for what may come, he greeted both of his fellow Death Eaters with his trademark emotionless nod and it was returned by both. Narcissa Malfoy, always physically flawlessly beautiful, entered through a side door and smiled at Snape.

"Ah Severus, you are just in time to join us for dinner before the evening's festivities." If Snape was nervous before, now he knew something was going on. Why in all the levels of hell was he summoned, yet invited to dine before meeting the Dark Lord? Every brain cell fired and screamed that he should activate his emergency Portkey and flee, but he could not. He knew that under any other circumstance he would have listened to his gut instinct, but he could not flee. It would completely abandon Potter and leave the Order with no other option for rescue.

Sighing inwardly, Snape nodded his agreement to his hostess. "I would be delighted Narcissa," he purred and the four moved to the dining room. The Lestrange brothers joined them on the brief walk to the dining area and Snape acknowledged both with a nod.

The table was set in the overly-formal manner, as it always was in the Malfoy household. Lucius took his place at the head and motioned to his guests to seat themselves, with Narcissa sitting at the head, opposite of Lucius. Rodolphus seated himself across from his wife, while Rabastan sat across from Severus.

A pair of house elves came in and brought in the first course for the meal. Snape tried to gently juggle the task of polite conversation, coupled with discretely casting spells to ensure he was not being dosed with anything untoward and watching faces for warning signs that things were not as they seemed. He tried to relax, but his sixth sense was working overtime, and he had an icy feeling creeping across the back of his neck, especially when he thought he caught glances passing between Lucius and Bellatrix.

There was absolutely no reason to be suspicious, other than the company he was sitting with, but he had sat to dine with the Malfoy and Black families many a time in the past, with no difficulty. That simply did not explain why he was feeling so horribly uncomfortable. He decided to give up on trying to figure anything out for the moment and concentrate on keeping his emotions at neutral and picking up anything problematic in the conversation at the table.

Nearly thirty minutes of pleasant dinner conversation and several courses of delicious food had passed before Bellatrix turned to Snape and caught his attention.

"So tell me Severus, how are you finding your meal tonight? Is it not exquisite? Do you not deem it to be delectable?" Icy fear started to trickle down Snape's neck. He wasn't sure why, but he knew that this was what he had been waiting all night for.

"Yes, it seems to be as good as it always is; delicious, thank-you." He tried to answer as safe as possible, though with Bellatrix at the table, safety usually went out the window in the talons of an angry owl.

Bellatrix looked at him with a smug look on her face. "We have a special guest at the table tonight Severus. What did you think of him?"

Snape frowned inwardly and tried to comprehend what Bellatrix was hinting at. He glanced up to see Lucius grinning maniacally and the feeling of fear came back upon him. "What are you getting at Bellatrix? Speak straight or don't bother."

Bellatrix giggled madly and her eyes sparked as she leaned closer to Hogwarts' potions Master. "The Dark Lord has been rather interested in you and your actions as of late Severus, specifically, your actions in regards to the Order of the Phoenix." She smiled at him as if she were a cat and he were a mouse to be toyed with.

"More specifically, your loyalty is not longer in question; as we know that you are no more loyal to our Lord than you a Horklump." Despite his nearing horror, Snape steeled his features to show indifference, and raised an eyebrow at the crazy woman.

"Indeed," he said.

"Oh, indeed, dear Snapey. Indeed!" she giggled. "Not only that, our esteemed guest is Mr. Potter!" Bellatrix let fly with an insane cackle and the rest of the guests started to snicker and chortle. "After all," she said between gasps of air and crows of laughter, "We _are_ called Death Eaters, are we not?" The entire table burst out laughing; Bellatrix's shrieks of laughter the loudest of them all.

The prickles of fear that had been creeping about Snape's body turned in to a cold horror as realisation of what she was saying sunk in. "You must be joking if you expect me to believe that!" his voice cracking as his composure started to snap.

"Oh, forgive me dear Severus," said a cold sibilant voice that came from the doorway. Lord Voldemort stood there, amusement creeping on to his eerie visage. "By all means, please do not think that we would ever attempt to deceive you, as you have deceived us."

The dark wizard moved forward and dumped a lumpy parcel on to Snape's plate. "Open it," he demanded.

Snape did not even bother to stop his hands from shaking as he unfolded the cloth wrapped around the bundle. As he saw the contents, he shot to his feet, his chair flying backwards and hitting the wall behind him. Unable to stop himself, his stomach heaved, and he bent over emptying his dinner on to the floor. He continued to heave, trying not to aspirate as he struggled for breath, his sobs choking him.

"NO!" he gasped as his eyes flicked back to the parcel on his place setting, his hearing dimmed and he feared he would faint for the first time in his life. He lunged forward, grabbed Potter's head and activated his Portkey back to Hogwarts, his ears ringing with evil laughter.

_Fin - I think...  
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End file.
